


Diablo Gato

by thaliaarche



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Crack, Crack Crossover, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Have I Mentioned This Is Crack?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9099079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thaliaarche/pseuds/thaliaarche
Summary: The crackiest crackship you'll read all day!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Idonquixote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idonquixote/gifts).



> ~~Blame~~ Credit for this ship goes to Idonquixote.

“One must never underestimate the importance of learning Latin,” Sebastian murmurs as he serves his master dinner.

\---  


He first noticed when the arrangement of items in the icebox— usually carefully spaced to achieve a balanced, aesthetically satisfying effect— had been disturbed. The milk jug stood a centimeter too far to the left. Moreover, it was slightly less than half empty.

Sebastian sighed. “Bard, I thought we agreed you would attempt no further experiments.”

“I haven’t,” the cook replied. “Sure, I burned the fish, but that was an honest accident!”

The butler narrowed his eyes. “Very well, then. Mey-rin, have you returned to your zealous worship of milk as a panacea for all human problems?”

“Eh?” She adjusted her glasses. "I don't go near the icebox, Mister Sebastian, not after last time!"

"Humph. The fact remains that someone has removed milk without permission." He pulled out the jar and examined it, swirling the milk and inhaling the scent deep. "Worse, they appear to have drunk the milk straight from the jug and contaminated it all. Perhaps we'll have to keep a closer watch on Tanaka . . ." He sniffed again. "Or perhaps not."

"What happened?" Finny chirped.

Sebastian's nostrils twitched. "I will have to throw this out."

And so he poured out the milk, spoiled by a scent strangely like his own.

\---

Sebastian sank down onto the edge of his bed, staring out the window, seeing nothing. He shook his head and sighed.

"Why?" he asked of the tomcat purring around his feet. "Why does your sister, my favorite, my magnificent queen, have no time to spare for me?" He scooped up the animal and stroked it, humming a melancholy tune. "She lazes in my closet, energy mysteriously sapped, and turns her head even when I offer the choicest fish. A pity. I fear someone is stealing her heart from me, and . . ." He raised an eyebrow, hearing a distant clink. "And also the china."

\---  


So he stalked the light-footed, light-fingered trespasser to a hallway, though even his demon ears could barely detect their near-silent steps. Growing closer, he heard a heartbeat speeding at almost twice a human rate, then the sound of metal whooshing through the air.

He twirled about as pain exploded in his calf— claws had cleanly slashed through his trouser leg and the skin below. He looked for the culprit and saw only air.

A moment later, blood bloomed from his foot, where a human artery would be, as a blade pierced his shoe and sock. He spun around again, whipping out six butter knives, clasping three in each hand in preparation for a counter-attack . . .

Then he saw his foe. His eyes widened. His lips trembled.

The knives clattered to the ground.

\---

"Is there a reason you're still lecturing me on Latin, even when my lesson's finally done for the day?" Ciel glares as he sips his water.

"A thorough knowledge of the language is a _ sine qua non _ for a variety of endeavors," Sebastian answers. "For instance, demonologists should never attempt a conjuring ritual if they cannot read the incantations they are about to use."

Ciel tilts his head. "Interesting. But why mention this tonight?"

"To tell the truth, young master, there was a time when I grew weary of being summoned by uninteresting humans to consider uninteresting contracts, and so I decided to . . . amend some of the spells written to summon me."

He snorts. "I assume you had the spells strike the cultists down on the spot?"

"Not quite," Sebastian replies. "That would likely require a large amount of editing, and I elected for a more subtle change."

"What do you mean?"

"I simply removed two letters from the sentence ' _infelices mutamus_ ,'” he says with a shrug. “Thus, when demonologists gathered my symbols and drew out my sigils and chanted, they received a rather different outcome.”

Ciel scowls. “Are there half-formed imps running around England as a result?”

Silence.

“We had an interesting intrusion today,” Sebastian remarks lightly.

“Oh?”

“Another robber after your family’s fine china.”

“Oh, that’s hardly interesting,” Ciel scoffs. “People have been trying to steal the Phantomhive china ever since there  _ was _ china in England.”

“Still, I took the liberty of hiring him as another servant.”

He chokes on his water. “Are you out of your excessively bloody mind?”

“If I may, young master, I present . . .” He claps his hands.

“A creature out of legend, an infamous outlaw, bringer of  _ catastrophe— _ ” a deep, sultry voice tinged with a Spanish accent rumbles through the hall as a ruddy blur whirls into the room— “ _Diablo Gato_!”

Silence.

“Sebastian,” Ciel at last whimpers, “you didn’t by any chance change ‘ _infelices mutamus_ ’ into ‘ _in feles mutamus_ ,’ did you?”

“But of course,” he says with a chuckle in his voice. “Before, those misguided cultists would ‘transform the unlucky victims’— along with the incense and jewelry and whatnot— into a form for me. Now, they transform the things into cats.”

Ciel buries his face in his hands.

“Do not weep, _señor_!” The cat— a flame-furred feline standing on its hind legs, with a black plumed hat on his head and a silver sword at his waist— bows with a flourish of its paws. “Your butler has won me and my innumerate talents for your service, in exchange for a paltry ten pounds of gold and a regular diet of fresh sweet cream, delivered daily to my room!”

“He will serve you usefully and loyally,” Sebastian adds, hand over his heart. “After all, he was created with my very essence . . .”

“I can see that,” Ciel mutters, rolling his eyes. “He’s absurd, melodramatic, arrogant, obsessed with payment and rich dinners and terrible puns, and— oh, hell.”

He glances down at the cat’s feet and sees two well-polished black leather boots.

“Sebastian, you’re in love, aren’t you?”

The demon stares at his new acquaintance, eyes glimmering a demonic fuschia, lips locked in a smirk. “I suppose the answer is . . . ‘yes,’ my lord.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Crack treated seriously. Sebastian/Puss in Boots (yep, the one from Shrek). Puss is the seme."
> 
> Happy new year, my dear identical twin!


End file.
